Never Can Tell

by C. M. Stunich

  “I guarantee if you send me away without my daughters, you'll regret it.” Danny picks up Autumn's car seat without waiting for answer from my sister. She clenches her fists, but doesn't move, just stands there with Maple on the floor behind her, scooting blocks around the carpet. She's so wrapped up in that douche bag that she's forgotten her no cussing rule. I look at my sister standing there, face pale and sweaty, eyes wide and brimming with tears. I look at Danny taking Autumn's blanket off and tossing it to the floor like he can't even bear the sight of such a filthy thing.

  I turn to Ty and hand him Noah. He takes the baby without thinking about it because, well, that's just what Ty fucking does.

  “You're the world's hottest motherfucking daddy,” I tell him, biting his ear and spinning on my heel, moving into the living room and taking the car seat by the handle. Danny is so surprised to see me there that he doesn't protest.

  “Don't make a scene,” I say quietly, dangerously. I have a lot of rage inside, a big ol' pot of it that I used to take out on the people around me. Considering those people have been pretty damn good to me lately, the pot is now full. Hannah is damn lucky that Ty stepped in. “Just go and come back tomorrow. It really isn't that difficult to comprehend.”

  “Give me back my daughter,” Danny grinds out between his thick teeth.

  “Never,” Beth says.

  “Hey, asshole,” says Ty. “If you touch my pregnant wife, I will fucking kill you and dump your body in the Mississippi.” I don't need Ty to defend me, but I like it anyway, so I don't say anything, just stand there and smile. Danny looks at Beth, at Maple, at Ty with an infant clutched in his strong arms, his gently curving sweeps of bicep that can rock a baby to sleep and give a man a concussion just as easily.

  “Next time you think you're helping your sister,” he says, and in his eyes I know he's remembering last year, the engagement ring, the fight with Ty. “You may want to consider the consequences.” Danny wipes his hand across his jaw and shakes his head, storming out the door and cringing with Angelica growls at him from her spot on the porch swing.

  We all stand quietly while he goes, waiting until we hear the car start.

  “Thanks,” Beth says, but she just sounds tired, and I think I can finally peg the worry in her voice, the fear hiding behind her eyes. She flops onto the couch and puts her fingers to her forehead. Maple crawls into her lap and snuggles her belly. I watch her carefully, wishing she had a partner like Ty, someone who made things better and not worse.

  I bring Autumn's car seat over to her side of the living room and set it down gently.

  “You okay?” I ask her, but she doesn't respond. “You want me to kill him?” It's a joke. Sort of. Beth doesn't smile.

  “I'm just tired, Never,” she whispers. “And I don't want to go to the picnic anymore. You can go without me if you'd like.” Fat chance that's happening. I step back and glance over at Ty who's fuming a little, bristling with aggression. I look back at Beth.

  “If you need anything,” I tell her, reaching out and brushing some hair from her forehead. “Come find me, okay?” She nods but doesn't say anything else. I move out of the living room and take Ty with me to the den to check on Chuck Norris. He is not enjoying his two weeks of indoor time, and has taken to pissing all over the bathroom floor. Ty won't let me clean that up either, but I try.

  “What the fuck was that about?” Ty whispers as I open the door and use my foot to keep a hissing Chuck back. “There was something going on there we weren't getting.”

  “Yeah,” I say as Ty slips inside and closes the door. Looks like Mr. Norris has been using his litter box, but he's taken to scratching up the old couch. There are shreds of fabric hanging like torn flesh. The cat takes a swipe at me and then immediately goes and rubs on the holey legs of Ty's jeans. “Something that I know is just going to spiral out of fucking control.” When I said I liked drama, I meant the more passive type. Not things like this, things that threaten my sister-mother's happiness, that hurt her children. I narrow my eyes. “Are we the only people in this house who aren't falling apart?”

  “Love is glue, baby,” Ty says, but his voice isn't at all playful, only serious now. “Without it, sometimes the cracks begin to show.”

  17

  When our stuff finally arrives from New York, I get a wave of nostalgia for the shitty, old house and the silence that permeated the shabby rooms, the way they were only filled with sound when the two of us were in them. I love my sisters, but shit. I guess I forgot what it was like to live with them.

  “Screw you, you fucking bitch!” Jade screeches at Beth. They're having another fight. Over what, I'm not sure, but I don't care. Right now, I'm lying on the couch while Ty unloads the truck with the movers, directing them to put the extra items in the barn and the rest in our room. I move the washcloth off of my eyes and watch as they drag Noah's crib up the stairs. Tonight's going to be his first night back in the room with Ty and me. I enjoyed the baby free nights for sure, but I'm kind of … glad he's going to be with us. For now anyway. Soon as he's old enough to start recognizing when Ty and I are fucking, he's getting his own room. “This shit is so old, Beth. I don't want to talk about it anymore.” Jade storms past the living room, copper hair flowing out behind her. She pauses for a moment and meets my eyes.

  I stare straight back at her and dare her to come in and talk to me. She looks away quickly and disappears up the stairs. I haven't asked her about Luis. Frankly, I have enough shit to deal with right now. And anyway, talking to Jade when she isn't ready to talk about something usually results in a scene similar to the one I just witnessed. I don't have the energy to deal with that crap. I feel like complete shit again, brought to my knees by Ty's baby. I hate this feeling of weakness, but there's not a damn thing I can do about it. Sometime in the next few days, I'm guessing that Ty's going to drag me to a doctor, so I can have my legs propped up like an extra in a BDSM film, strapped down to a sterile table with a spotlight on my damn crotch. I shiver. I don't even know if I want to go to a hospital this time. I'd rather birth the kid by myself.

  I lean my head back against the couch and end up falling asleep without knowing it. My eyes close and all of a sudden, time just passes me by, sucked away from me without my permission.

  When I wake up, the sunshine is long gone and the house is dark. There's a blanket over me and a dog lying across my legs. I struggle to sit up and try to figure out what's so strange about this moment.

  Silence.

  The house is quiet. For the first time since I moved back in, it's completely still in here.

  I kick Angelica off and stand up, stretching and rubbing at my head. I feel groggy, but better. With a yawn, I move out of the living room and into the kitchen where my butterfly bad boy is sitting hunched over a computer, eyes droopy, bracelets jingling as he navigates around a familiar blue and yellow website.

  “Hey,” I whisper, and he jumps, turning to face me with a slight smile.

  “Hey,” he says and he scoots his chair back, so I can sit in his lap. Ty's body is solid and warm behind me, a granite pillar of independence and strength, perseverance and trust. I can't even imagine how I ever survived without him. He's the other half of my soul, the love of my life, the one person who could match me, blood for blood, pain for pain. But I also know that I have to get control of myself to make this happen. I'm working on it, and I'm getting better, but I'm not perfect. There are still things that can set me off. My best hope is to avoid them completely until I'm ready. Unfortunately, sometimes those sorts of things are just out of your control.

  “What are you up to?” I ask, and I hear the grin in Ty's voice before I see it.

  “Ordering your transcripts.” I wrinkle my brow.

  “Why?”

  “We're enrolling you in school, Never.” I turn all the way around, so that I'm facing Ty and not the computer, tangling my fingers together behind his neck.

  “We are?” His grin just gets bigger.

  “I k
now you wanted to go back, so I thought you could continue here, locally. Just for a little while, until you decide where you want to go and what you want to do.” I frown at him.

  “But what about you?” I ask as he pulls me closer, breathing hot against my neck, nipping at the soft flesh with his teeth. The metal of his lip ring presses into my throat and makes me gasp.

  “Aw, fuck, Nev, do you think I'd let you go to school without me? Hang out at all the frat parties with your plump, pregnant little ass peeking out from under a miniskirt?”

  “Um, please,” I say, trying to pretend that his mouth on my skin doesn't affect me at all. There's no denying that I've cast a spell on him though. His magic fucking wand is stabbing me in the right thigh. “I'm a senior, McCabe. You're a freshman. There's no way in shit we'd be hanging out together.” Ty makes a pretend moue of disappointment. And then he tries to feel up my tits. I slap his hand away. “Be serious for a second.”

  His face drops and he takes a massive inhale of winter air. Outside the house, the first flakes of snow begin to fall, drifting like ballerinas, pirouetting across the harsh Midwestern earth and turning it soft. Blurring the edges of reality. Shifting perception by altering the landscape. It's all false, a nice blanket, something that covers up the wounds of the land, hides them until it's too late, until all the snow is melted and the damage is done. Trading wintery kisses for the burn of frostbite.

  “Nev, I want to counsel kids. I want to prevent more people from becoming like you and me.” He pauses, gestures with his ringed hand. “Well, the way we used to be anyway. I think it's possible to have what we have now without needing to suffer for it first.”

  “I agree.”

  Ty pauses and spins his lip ring around with his tongue.

  “Nev?” Just my name, serious, too serious. My heart starts to pound.

  “Don't, Ty,” I tell him, afraid that he's going to say something that'll break my heart and split me into a million, jagged pieces. I can't have that. I need him. I need him here with me forever. I push my forehead into his. “You can't talk about our future and then use a tone like that. I said get serious, not fucking morbid.”

  “Never, I want to talk to the police.”

  Shit. Damn. Fuck. Not this again. I don't want this in our life. I just want it to go away, sweep it under the rug with all of the other crap that happened in the past, pour gasoline on the fibers and let it rip.

  “It happened a decade ago, Ty, a lifetime ago.”

  “It haunts me every fucking day.”

  “You didn't do anything.”

  “That's right. I didn't.”

  I look into Ty's face. He wants to tell the police what he saw all those years ago, tell them about poor Marin Rice, the girl he didn't hurt but didn't save either. Ty wants to be a good man. It doesn't take an expert to dig deep into his damaged psyche to figure that one out. He's desperate for it; it shows in his eyes each and every time his gaze wanders to the horizon. What he doesn't realize is that he's already a good man, that in my eyes, he's the perfect man. This old wound of his is still bleeding, gushing blood, spraying it across his eyes and blinding him.

  “What if they decide you're a suspect?”

  “They won't.” He pauses, rubs at his chin. “At least I don't fucking think so.”

  “What if Hannah was lying, Ty? What if she was blowing smoke up your ass?” Already, he's shaking his head.

  “Hannah is … fucked up. I don't know what her problem is or why she came to me, but I don't give a shit. This isn't about her, babe. I looked it up online. I saw it. They reopened the case, and the Rice family really is offering a reward.” I swallow hard and pat my pockets down for a cigarette. I don't have any. I got rid of them all this morning, dumped them into the garbage can and watched as India dragged it down to the street for pickup. I'm no good with temptation. I let my eyes flutter closed and try my best not to think about how my lips are tingling and my hands are shaking. I want to tilt my head up and blow smoke at the ceiling, breathe deep and taste nicotine in my lungs.

  “Did you even know the couple she was with? This is stupid, Ty. You can't help her. She's dead.” I look him straight in the face and try not to get angry. He can't risk everything we've built up for this. His past and mine put together aren't worth a fucking cent, let alone a life.

  “She's dead because of me, Never,” he snaps, and I realize that that's the first time he's gotten angry with me since we moved into his grandma's house. “I am fucking responsible for this shit. It hangs on me everyday and weighs me down. I have to get it off my shoulders or I'm going to fucking drown.”

  “You don't have to redeem yourself,” I scream at him, pushing him away, standing up, spinning. “Remember? What happened to what you said before? That only Noah and I mattered. What about that, Ty?”

  “Never,” he says, and his voice gets soft again. He tries to come to me, but I back away, putting my hands up and shaking my head.

  “You said nothing else mattered. So fuck this girl. Fuck her. Fuck Marin Rice.”

  “Nev, calm down,” Ty says, hands up placatingly. “Baby, come here. Just come here.”

  “No,” I growl at him, ready to fight him to the death on this. “I won't let you get involved in this. You said yourself that the sex trade has its own set of rules. If you break them, what happens then, Ty? Even if the police believe you, or you call in anonymously, somebody will know, won't they?”

  “It's not a yakuza clan, Nev.” He tries to smile, but he doesn't look happy. There are no dimples there. “It'll probably end up being nothing, a fifteen fucking minute phone conversation that the police will document and forget all about.”

  “Then why?” I ask, and I feel like crying, but I don't. Like I said, I have a lot of rage inside. Ty doesn't deserve to have any of it directed his way, but there it is. I can't help it. It just comes out, and I regret it the moment it does. This isn't us anymore. Ty and I are past this. We don't need this drama. All we need is each other. “So you can tell the police that some freaking nut job named 'Dick Prick' fucked you over? Sent you into the pits of hell and then died before he could pay up for crimes committed?” I make little quotes with my fingers when I say what dead fuck's name. I wish he were still alive, so I could hunt him down and destroy.

  If Ty was unhappy before, he looks really ticked off now. He digs into his back pocket and, despite our promise to quit, ends up with a cigarette in his shaking hands which he lights and takes a drag on, right there in front of me. Teasing me. Screwing around with my nicotine addiction and making a cranky prego bitch absolutely insane.

  “So they can write down the stupidest fucking monicker ever known to man and laugh about it?” I don't mean this as an insult to Ty, more in that I don't believe the police are worth shit when it comes down to it. None of them were there to help Ty when he needed them most, and that is their job, isn't it? Where were they when Marin Rice was still alive? Where were they when Ty and his cousin were suffering?

  But this offends Ty, fucking rips into him and sends him over the edge. Maybe we both needed one last freak-out, one last chance to express some of this pain and rid ourselves of it forever, bleed it dry and let it shrivel up to die in the sun, just the way it deserves. Either that or we're just experiencing human error, that essential erring we all have that comes out very now and again. It happens to all of us; it's just the best of us that learn to triumph over it.

  “That man with the fucking laughable name made me suck his dick, Never. He raped my goddamn mouth, and he enjoyed it. I don't think it's all that fucking funny.” I stare into Ty's brown eyes, watch the gray smoke curl up and kiss his dark hair. I could tell him then that I don't mean it that way, that I'm sorry, and he'd probably forgive me, but I don't. I just stand there and watch the cherry crackle in the dark stillness of the house, the only figure right now who's glowing with anything akin to cheer. Ty lets it dangle from his lips and smashes the top down on the laptop, turning around and flicking off the kitchen li
ght, throwing us into complete darkness. I watch the orange dot of fire as he spins around. “And it's not okay, and I'm not really over it, and I don't know if I'll ever be over it. Do you think I like kissing you with this filthy mouth? Do you think I like kissing our goddamn son?”

  Again, perfect opportunity for me to say something like, I happen to enjoy your filthy mouth. But I don't. A part of me thinks that I want this fight, want my little monster to be proven right, want to be shown that perfection does not last, and Ty and I are not a fairytale couple.

  He steps forward, but all I can see is the shadow of him, the silhouette. The rest of Ty McCabe is shrouded in darkness. The cigarette moves, lighting up the kitchen like a firefly as Ty pulls it from his lips. He blows smoke out and it kisses my forehead like a butterfly's wings, soft and so insignificant that it becomes significant, like it's the most important sensation in the world.

  “I want to call the police, and I want to tell them my name, and I want to give them every detail I ever learned about anyone ever involved in that shit. I want to tell them about Hannah before she starts fucking stalking me, and I want to tell them about Dick and how he really screwed with my head, and I want to tell them about Marin Rice, the girl that torments my fucking soul. Maybe then I'll feel alright, like I'm a little cleaner, a pound lighter, and I'll feel like I deserve you.”

  “Deserve me?” I ask and even the whisper that escapes my dry lips feel like a curse. Tears are rolling down my cheeks again, bleeding sorrow for Ty McCabe and his pain. How can he even say that? I'm the one that doesn't deserve him, the one who fucked not to survive but to cope, who couldn't even handle her own feelings. This is the same girl that stands before him now, unsure how to respond to life like a normal person, screwing each thing up as she goes, bleeding darkness across a blue, blue sky. “Ty McCabe, you deserve a woman twice as good as me.”